


Such a Florence, a Real Florence Nightingale

by Chash



Series: Bellarke AU Week [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke takes care of Bellamy; Bellamy objects to her beside manner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such a Florence, a Real Florence Nightingale

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that most of my fics involve Clarke being a mess and Bellamy taking care of her, and I wanted to switch it up, but this did not work exactly as intended because I was not taking Bellamy's pain very seriously. Sorry, Bellamy.
> 
> Also, this brings us to the end of Bellarke AU week, which has been a ton of fun! Many, many thanks to [thatweirdparamedicstudent](http://thatweirdparamedicstudent.tumblr.com/) for organizing!

Bellamy Blake is the worst sick person she has ever met.

"What does that even mean?" he grumbles. He's on the couch under a pile of blankets-- _her_ blankets--hunched over and glaring indiscriminately. "Everyone is a terrible sick person. How would you even be a good sick person? Being sick is the opposite of being good. I'm _sick_."

"Good sick people _listen_ to their friends who know what they're talking about and drink their damn tea with honey and get some rest. I can't believe you went to work! You have the fucking flu!"

"I don't have paid time off," he says, and it's hard to tell that he's blushing given how flushed he is, but--Clarke knows him well enough to be sure. He's always embarrassed about finances. "I'm losing money to this." He does at least take the tea and drink some.

"I know," she says, sitting down next to him on the couch. "Which is why you should listen to me as long as you're sick. I'll get you back to work as soon as possible. Promise."

"I can't afford more than another day." He drinks more of the tea, still glaring. "It's good," he says, like the words are a terrible burden. And then, "Are you expecting me to sleep on your couch? That can't be good for me. In my weakened state."

"You're sleeping in my bed," she says. "I'll share with Octavia or sleep on the couch. You're not going home, it's across town."

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed."

"You are. You called me to pick you up from work, now you have to deal with all the consequences of that, which include listening to me and sleeping in my bed. Now shut up and drink your tea, you'll feel better."

There's a long pause, and he finally says, "Did you say we were friends?"

"Seriously, shut up."

*

Bellamy is Clarke's roommate's older brother, which is not the kind of relationship that generally involves a lot of hanging out. But Bellamy and Octavia are kind of intense, as far as siblings go--Wells and his sister bicker all the time, and she didn't even know that Monty and Harper _had_ siblings for like a year--so she met him within a week of meeting Octavia and saw him all the fucking time. They weren't exactly close, but once she and Octavia moved into their own place junior year, he got a key and started coming over at odd times, since their place is closer to his job than his is, and, honestly, Clarke thinks he's kind of lonely. He and Octavia grew up here, and Bellamy didn't go to college because he was supporting her. When his friends went to college, he was still at home and raising his little sister, and he's clearly had some trouble getting a new peer group together.

So they're friends, yeah. Bellamy hangs out on their couch and insists on watching obscure documentaries he finds on Netflix, and Clarke puts her feet in his lap and makes fun of him.

If that's not friendship, she doesn't know what is.

*

"Seriously? I'm your emergency contact?"

"Octavia would worry too much," he says, defensive.

"I'm worried! You got fucking _stabbed_ , Jesus Christ. Besides, she's on her way anyway, did you think I wasn't going to call her?"

"I was hoping work would never have to call my emergency contact."

"Let me see."

"It's really not that bad," he says. He's got a towel pressed against his arm, white, with blood visible around the edges. It makes her feel like she's going to throw up. 

"You got stabbed in the arm," she says, soft. "Of course it's fucking bad, Bellamy." 

"It's just going to be a few stitches, and I get some actual paid time off work. Bonus."

"Bellamy."

He puts his good arm around her and kisses her hair. "I'm fine, seriously. This guy wasn't taking no for an answer, so I kicked him out and told the girl he was hitting on I'd walk her home. Apparently the guy was drunk and pissed at me, decided to wait around outside. I think he just wanted to be kind of intimidating, but he tripped and fell and the knife sliced my arm. It's fine. Honestly, I'm just glad I was there and she didn't get hurt."

"You need to take better care of yourself."

"This was really not my fault."

"No, I know, just--generally. You don't worry about yourself enough."

"Well, that's what I've got you and Octavia for, right? You worry about me enough for everyone."

*

"I'm moving with you," Clarke tells him, three months after the stabbing incident.

"Since when?" he asks, not even looking away from his video game.

"Since now."

"Okay. Starting when?"

"End of the school year."

He does glance at her at that. "Is this because you're worried I'm going to mope myself into oblivion when Octavia leaves?"

"Only, like, half because of that. Well, maybe seventy-five percent. But I need somewhere to live! I'm losing my roommate. You have a house. I'll pay you rent. You need rent."

"I own the house. That's why I live in it. You don't need to pay me rent."

"My mom is giving me a budget for it because she thinks I should use my paycheck to save for the future. A thousand dollars a month. I'll give you half and spend the rest on booze and groceries. Everyone's getting an awesome deal."

He considers. "I actually can't argue with that."

"Right? Best idea ever."

Octavia is less convinced.

"You're moving in with my brother?" she asks.

"He's going to be lonely and sad," Clarke says, shrugging. "You know you're worried about him. Besides, I'm saving money on rent, and--I don't have that many friends here either. We should stick together."

"Seriously, what's up with you guys? Half the time you're hanging out and I'm not even here. You're his _emergency contact_. How did this happen?"

"We're friends."

"Are you guys sleeping together?"

"Nope. Unless you count falling asleep while watching Netflix, in which case, you know. Occasionally."

"Do you want to be?"

Clarke shrugs. "Not particularly. No more than I want to sleep with any decently hot guy I don't hate."

"So you're just moving in with him. And not sleeping with him. Just--as friends." She shakes her head. "I kind of wish you _were_ fucking him. It would be less weird, honestly."

"Well," she says, patting Octavia on the shoulder. "If I start, you'll be the first to know."

*

"You are seriously the least competent person I've ever met."

"I injure myself helping you move and you're making fun of me?" Bellamy asks, glaring. 

"You dropped a box on your foot," Clarke says, pulling said foot into her lap for inspection. "You're not injured, you're incompetent."

"If I'm not injured, then why does my foot hurt?"

Clarke has to smile at that. It's already hot and gross out, even though it's only early June, and she genuinely _does_ appreciate Bellamy's help with the moving, especially given how sweaty he is. Both because he's suffering for her and because sweaty is a really good look on him. "It's not broken or anything," she says, testing with her fingers to make sure. "Just a nasty bruise. It's gonna suck for a few days, but nothing serious."

"I don't even get a cool scar like when I got stabbed."

"I'm sorry you didn't hurt yourself more," she says, patting his foot. "That sucks for you."

"Right? Go big or go home. Impressive, horrific injuries or bust."

Clarke laughs. "You're a dork. I'm getting you some ice and then I'll bring in the rest of the stuff."

"No, I can still help," he protests, trying to get up. She puts her hand on his chest and pushes him back down. Gently. Mostly gently.

"There are like four boxes left, I'll be fine. Just ice your stupid foot and order a pizza, okay?"

"Has anyone ever told you your bedside manner is shit?"

"No, because it's _awesome_. When I have good patients. You're a shitty patient, so you get shitty service. I don't make the rules, Bellamy."

He snorts. "Why am I living with you again?"

"Because I'm going to pay for the pizza."

"That must be it."

*

She gets the call at work on a Tuesday afternoon; she's never heard Bellamy sound as bad as he does when he says, "It's Octavia."

"What do you need?"

He lets out a strange, choked laugh. "That's it?"

"What else would it be?"

"Sometimes I forget you're the actual best person of all time," he says, which--she didn't know that at all, and apparently he knows it so well he forgets sometimes. "She was--car accident? She's stable, but I have to go down there. It's only a four-hour drive, so I'm going to--"

"We're going to," she says, already gathering her things.

"You don't have to come," he hedges, but the relief is clear in his voice.

"Of course I'm coming," she says. "We should take my car, it's not a shit heap. I just need to tell my boss I'm leaving. Meet at the house? We should at least get a change of clothes, to have it. Actually, are you good to drive? Do you need me to pick you up? It's on my way. I should pick you up."

He laughs softly. "That would be great, yeah."

He's waiting outside the bar for her, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking wrecked. 

"What did you tell your boss?" he asks, sliding into shotgun.

"Family emergency." She reaches across the gearshift and squeezes his hand. "She's going to be fine, Bellamy."

"You really said that?" he asks.

"Of course. It _is_ a family emergency."

He smiles at her, wry. "Did I thank you?"

"Of course you didn't. You don't have to."

He ducks his head, laughs softly. "Yeah, I guess not."

*

Two hours into the trip, he says, "This is why I didn't want her to leave."

"I was sort of surprised you didn't go after her."

"I own the house. If I moved, I'd have to sell it and pay rent on something else. And--following my sister around for my whole life feels a little sad." He offers her a smile. "Besides, you wanted a roommate."

"You were gonna miss me," she teases. 

He doesn't look embarrassed at all. "I was gonna miss you."

She sits in the ER waiting room with him, getting endless styrofoam cups of bad coffee, playing Ascension on his phone so they don't go crazy worrying. It's almost midnight when they hear Octavia's going to be okay; she tells Bellamy to go ahead, and sinks back in the chair, rubbing her face.

Octavia's right. It would probably be less weird if they were sleeping together.

*

"That's your roommate you're not sleeping with?" Raven asks.

Bellamy hangs up his coat and raises his eyebrows at Clarke. "Is that how you introduce me to people?" he asks.

"Yup. I'm going to take you to a fancy party someday and be like, this is Bellamy, my roommate I'm not sleeping with."

"And I'll say, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mayor." He flops down on the couch next to her, putting his arm over his eyes. "Hi, Clarke's friend. Sorry, I'm exhausted."

Clarke starts rubbing his scalp, absent; it usually makes him feel better. "Long shift?"

"The longest. That guy who stabbed me came back."

"Wait, what?"

"Honestly, I think he forgot he stabbed me? Or maybe he stabs so many people we all kind of blend together. We kicked him out and called the cops but I was kind of edgy all night. I did get him put in jail for six months." He drops his head onto her shoulder. "But nothing happened, so now I'm just coming off an adrenaline high."

"Jesus. You should have texted me."

"You would be the person I'd call for backup in a knife-fight, but I knew you had plans. Besides, the police were already involved. I didn't want them to think I didn't have faith in their skills."

Clarke remembers Raven, who's paused the game so she can watch them with interest. Raven's in the IT department at work, and they have lunch together most days, and she's been hinting that she thinks Clarke wants to jump Bellamy, which--probably this display is not going to help Clarke's case, with Bellamy half-passed out on her and her still massaging his scalp. 

"Don't mind me," says Raven, grinning at Clarke. "I was just heading out anyway. It's getting pretty late."

"You don't have to," says Bellamy. He already sounds half-asleep. "I'm going to pass out and you guys can talk about me behind my back."

"Egoist," says Clarke. "See you on Monday, Raven?"

"Oh yeah, we're going to have a _great_ lunch."

There's no real point in trying to stop her leaving, so Clarke just waves her away and flops back against Bellamy once she's gone. "You sure you're okay?"

"Fine. I'm glad you're still up." He yawns. "Seriously, does she actually call me your roommate you're not sleeping with?"

"Pretty much all the time. She's going to be insufferable."

"Why?"

"Because you're hot, obviously. So I should be sleeping with you."

"You're going to be sleeping with me in a minute," he says, yawning again and nosing her neck. She swats at him.

"Go to bed, Bellamy."

"Or that, fine." He pecks her cheek. "Night, Clarke."

*

"Oh my god, I thought you were bad when _you_ were sick," Clarke says, glaring at Bellamy. "You're such a fucking mother hen!"

"And you're not?" he asks, sounding more amused than offended. "I still remember when I got the flu. You wouldn't let me go home. You practically tucked me into bed. I thought you were going to read to me."

"This isn't the flu, this is a random virus. It'll be gone in a day or two. You didn't have to take the day off work."

"I get paid days off now, it's exciting. I'm celebrating." 

She snorts. "So you're wasting a paid day off to sit on the couch with me when I have a fever, which I can take care of myself, because all I have to do is drink liquids and have Tylenol."

"Yup." He tugs her against his side, nuzzling her hair. He's been getting steadily more affectionate with her since Octavia's crash a few months back; she's not sure he's noticed. She's not going to tell him, in case it makes him stop.

"What did you tell the boss?"

"That you were sick."

Clarke's already feeling warm and fuzzy from the fever, but that definitely makes her warmer and fuzzier. "They don't call me your roommate you're not sleeping with, do they."

"No, they know your name." He kisses the top of her head. "They also think I'm sleeping with you, though, yeah."

"You could be," she says, because--she can blame the fever, right? She can pretend that she was just feverish if he says no, and she'll have an answer. Because some days--most days, almost every day--not being with Bellamy Blake feels fucking _stupid_.

"I couldn't be," he says, and tightens her arms around her when she tenses, involuntarily. "Fuck, no, that's not what I meant, fuck, sorry. I meant--I can't just sleep with you, not, you know. We can't just be us and add sex if I don't get to be serious about you too." He rubs his face with one hand, and she watches him flush, fondness growing in her chest. "I love you," he admits. "I figured you knew and just didn't want to make it weird."

She has to laugh. "If I'd known I would have said something."

"Like, letting me down easy, or--"

"I love you too, Bellamy." She leans her head against his chest. "We're not hooking up until I'm better, though. I'm not giving you germs."

"You've been lying on me all day," he says, taking her hand and squeezing. "Coughing on me. Sniffling at me. I already have your germs all over me."

"You are making this sound like a really sexy situation." She smiles up at him, and he smiles back like she's never seen before. "Okay, fine, we can make out a little, but if you get sick, I'm saying I told you so."

"Deal," he says, and finally-- _finally_ \--kisses her.

*

"I told you so."

"Worth it."

She kisses him on the forehead. "I don't have more sick days to burn, so I'm just leaving you a list of things to do to take care of yourself."

He laughs. "I am capable of dealing with a fever. You're the one who said it wasn't a big deal."

"We're not having sex until you're better. That's your motivation. Read the list, Bellamy."

"Yeah, yeah." He gives her a grin, and it _is_ very hard to leave. Even if he's sick and somewhat gross. "Have a good day at work, honey."

"Drink a lot of liquids, muffin."

*

"I can't believe you tried to do pre-med, you are the least nurturing person I have ever met."

Clarke has finally recovered from her laughing fit well enough to drive; Bellamy is stretched out in the back seat, miserable. She does feel _a little_ bad.

"Shut up, I'm a fucking caretaker," she says. "But you dislocated your hip! During sex! It's like you're sixty and your viagra got you too excited."

"I fucking hate you."

"I'm going to put this in our wedding vows. I'm going to tell our kids about this. I'm going to be like _How I Met Your Mother_. Really inappropriate stories about our sex life all the time."

There's a long pause, and then he says, "At what point did you decide we were going to have wedding vows and kids?"

It's an interesting question, academically speaking. They've only been officially together for a year, and she hadn't really ever _thought_ about marrying him and having kids before that, but it already felt like something she'd known for a while then. Something she hadn't unlocked.

"When you got the flu," she decides, and it might even be true. "You were there on our couch, in your blanket pile, and I was just like, he's never going to be able to take care of himself, I'm going to have to be responsible for him. This is who I am now."

He snorts, and then makes a soft, pained noise, which makes her frown. It probably _does_ hurt. "I don't even know why I like you."

She takes one hand of the steering wheel, reaches back to hold his. "I'm a fucking caretaker," she says again, fond this time.

He laughs and squeezes her hand. "Yeah, that must be it."


End file.
